Born and raised in Ventura, California, Jett Ralston grew up in a garage that smelled like motor oil, vinyl records, and his father’s hair pomade. While other kids watched cartoons, Jett memorized the Grease soundtrack and tried to mirror Elvis's hip sway in the hallway mirror. His voice—low, smoky, and just a little rough around the edges—carries the DNA of that golden age, but never feels stuck in it.

Jett’s debut single “Through Me” (feat. Dolores Queen) is a cinematic slow-burn: part lost love, part lounge confession. Produced exclusively for Filodyo, the track fuses analog charm with subtle modern edges, pairing his velvet baritone with Dolores Queen’s haunting harmonies. He doesn’t try to be Elvis — but he sings like someone who misses that kind of honesty on stage.

With a sound caught somewhere between a flickering jukebox and a midnight highway, Jett Ralston is not here for nostalgia — he's here to make old souls feel seen again.

---

Elyra Dawn was born in Rotterdam, raised between ferry horns and late-night radio static. Music wasn’t a choice — it was everywhere. Her mother sang quietly while folding laundry, her older brother blasted trance through paper-thin walls, and Elyra? She listened. Carefully. Absorbing melodies like secondhand sunlight.

She spent her teenage years bouncing between school choirs, bedroom recordings, and weekend trips to Amsterdam’s record stores. The moment she first heard Robyn’s Dancing On My Own on a train platform at dusk, something clicked. It wasn’t just about sadness or joy — it was how you could wear both in the same voice. That duality, the push and pull between euphoria and vulnerability, would become Elyra’s signature.

After performing in local clubs and uploading small demos online, she received an unexpected email from Filodyo’s Hakan E — a message that simply said: “You sound like you’ve lived a little. Let’s talk.” What followed was a slow, careful collaboration: late-night file exchanges, voice memos from backstage, moments captured between flights. Elyra didn’t rush it. She never does.

Today, her voice balances two worlds — the sweaty rush of the dancefloor and the quiet ache of a Sunday morning alone. Her hooks stick, her delivery stings, and her presence on stage feels at once intimate and cinematic. Elyra Dawn isn’t here to be loud. She’s here to be heard.

---

Melly Rich, born to a Lebanese family in Amsterdam, grew up surrounded by two worlds: the culinary brilliance of her father, Chef Khaled Rich, and the rich cultural heritage of the Middle East. Her father is the head chef of La Maison des Délices, one of France’s most prestigious Michelin-starred restaurants, known for its fusion of French and Middle Eastern flavors. Despite her father's fame in the culinary world, Melly's passion led her down a different path.

Though her family assumed she would follow in her father’s footsteps, Melly was captivated by music from a young age. With her father’s full support, she began singing, though her formal education took her into the world of architecture at the University of Amsterdam.

Balancing her studies with her love for music, Melly began to develop a unique sound, blending her Middle Eastern roots with the vibrant energy of Western pop. Her breakthrough single, "Damn, I Wish I Were in Istanbul", captures this fusion perfectly. The song carries hints of oud and traditional Arabic rhythms, interwoven with modern pop beats, creating a bridge between two worlds. It’s not just a catchy tune—it’s a love letter to her cultural identity, filled with nostalgia for the warmth and chaos of the Middle East, while reflecting her cosmopolitan life in Europe.

The song quickly gained attention, especially for its atmospheric vibes that pull listeners into a dreamlike vision of Istanbul, with its bustling bazaars and shimmering Bosphorus views.

Melly's ability to infuse her music with Middle Eastern influences sets her apart in the global music scene, and though she’s still juggling her architectural studies, there’s no doubt that music is where her heart truly lies. With the world now watching, Melly Rich is on her way to becoming an international sensation, blending cultures and genres like her father blends flavors at his famous restaurant.

---

Camila Reyes was born in Seville, Spain, in 1992, and has spent most of her life surrounded by the vibrant rhythms and colors of Andalusia. By profession, she is a skilled ceramic artist, known for her intricate hand-painted tiles inspired by Moorish patterns and flamenco motifs. Her work has been exhibited in boutique galleries across Spain, yet music has always been her truest form of self-expression.

Raised in a family where boleros and rancheras echoed through the kitchen, Camila began singing at small local gatherings, blending traditional Latin folk with her own soulful touch. Over the years, her voice became a bridge between the streets of Seville and the broader Latin diaspora, carrying both joy and melancholy in every note.

Today, Camila records all of her music exclusively for Filodyo, preserving an intimate connection with her listeners. Her latest release, Ya No Me Duele, is a testament to resilience and emotional rebirth, capturing the strength of moving on without bitterness.

---

There’s a certain stillness in Celeste Raye’s voice — the kind that turns crowded rooms quiet and late-night drives cinematic. Born and raised in South London, she grew up mimicking the elegance of old soul singers and the cool detachment of ‘90s club divas. On stage, Celeste doesn’t reach for the spotlight — it finds her.

Her latest release, Velvet Switch, is a slow-burning club anthem soaked in longing. Produced by NOT FM and available exclusively on Filodyo, the track pulses with quiet intensity — as if it’s remembering something you forgot you missed. Celeste’s voice doesn’t cry out. It hovers, suspended above the beat, tracing the shape of absence with each note.

People don’t come to her sets just to dance. They come to feel understood — in dim lights, with their eyes closed, mouthing words they’ve never said out loud. Velvet Switch captures that moment between stillness and surrender, when the music takes over and you stop pretending you’re fine.

Celeste Raye isn’t trying to be timeless. She already is — not because she sounds like someone else, but because she sounds like a feeling you’ve had before, but never named.

---

Lucía doesn’t raise her voice — she lets silence lean toward her.

Born in Ciudad Juárez, where the wind carries both prayers and warnings, Lucía learned early that strength doesn’t shout — it stands still. Her music wasn’t born in studios. It was carved in alleyways, border bars, long walks home. She didn’t grow up dreaming of stages. She grew up walking away from things that didn’t serve her.

Her voice carries the weight of absence — low, textured, unhurried. With influences rooted in ranchera, flamenco, and tango, she weaves stories that don’t plead, but remember. Every note she sings is a scar that glows.

In recent years, Lucía has emerged as one of Filodyo’s most enigmatic voices — fierce, private, unforgettable. On her latest collaboration with Wade Hollis, the gravel-toned American guitarist, Lucía sings over strings like rusted fences in the sun. The song doesn’t comfort. It confronts — just like her.

The connection began far from stages. While Wade Hollis was recording new material with Filodyo, he mentioned a woman he had once heard playing in a dim-lit cantina near the border. “She sings like she’s been through three lifetimes,” he said. It was during a late-night Zoom call with Hakan E., the creative engine behind Filodyo, that Lucía’s name resurfaced.

By chance — or something heavier — Hakan had just expressed his search for a voice that wasn’t sweet, wasn’t polished — but true. “I need someone who sounds like she doesn’t need anyone,” he had said. A few weeks later, their first conversation took place across a flickering Zoom screen. Lucía, seated on a balcony in Mexico, cigarette in hand. No makeup. No pretenses. Just presence.

That was enough.

Now, her voice travels far from the cantinas — but it never left the dust behind.

You don’t listen to Lucía to feel better.
You listen to feel seen.

---

Where Parisian glamour meets electro-pop dance diva, you'll find the enchanting artist, Manon Vallois. Traipsing down a yellow brick road of pulsing beats and bold impressions, Vallois' irresistible tunes are the epitome of joy and joie de vivre.

This delightful, quirky Parisienne is the lovechild of the City of Love's rich artistry and throbbing nightlife, a lass always found a hop, skip, and pirouette away from the nearest beat drop. With her signature track, "My Dreaming Life", Vallois provides the escapism we all need from time to time. She takes listeners on a whimsical journey, backed by high-energy rhythms and melodies that would make even the Eiffel Tower shake its steel self, setting hearts aflutter quicker than you can say "Croissant".

Vallois' music is the couture of the dance genre—handcrafted, energetic, and unafraid to be avant-garde. Each beat an homage to Paris, the pulsing rhythm of her home injected into pulsating electro melodies. Yet, no matter how vivacious her bass line or infectious her hook, it's the inherent optimism in her music, the joy she infuses in every track that transforms listeners into undeniably happy dancers—a task only possible by someone as enchanting as Manon Vallois.

Afterall, Vallois is not just a sonic maven, she's essentially happiness personified. The dictionary people are just slackin' by not placing her picture beside the word 'happy' by now. So, if you're feeling downhearted, just press play on a Manon Vallois track and dance like a Parisian; it's the quickest route from gloom to groove central.

---

Ayvenn was born and raised in Clearwater Heights, a quiet hillside town in Georgia where music wasn’t just background noise — it was how people coped, celebrated, and remembered. From Sunday gospel choirs to late-night Latin radio, the sounds around him shaped a boy who rarely spoke, but always listened. In silence, he learned to interpret the world. And when he began writing lyrics, it wasn’t about performance — it was about decoding feelings he couldn’t name.

Fusing Pop and R&B with understated Latin textures, Ayvenn crafts music that feels more like film than formula. His voice is warm, restrained, and precise — a narrator of emotional undercurrents rather than explosions. Each track unfolds slowly, deliberately, like memories coming into focus. There’s clarity in his subtlety, weight in his pauses.

His breakout song, “All for One Y.” was born from an unexpected connection. Hakan E — the mind behind Filodyo, known for his instinct in spotting rare talent — reached out after hearing early demos from Ayvenn. He sent a short message and a concept: “This isn’t a love song. It’s a math problem.” That idea resonated deeply. To Ayvenn, the X’s weren’t just variables — they were past mistakes, unanswered questions, the people he couldn’t quite hold onto. And the “Y”? The reason he kept trying.

Ayvenn recorded the song in a single late-night session, layering vocals with surgical attention, pulling tension from silence, and shaping each detail until it echoed with something intimate and real. To Solve for Y isn’t just a debut — it’s an internal dialogue turned outward, crafted for anyone who’s ever tried to explain a feeling they didn’t fully understand.

Now, Ayvenn is building a sound that’s emotionally meticulous, sonically immersive, and unmistakably his own. Every track is a quiet revelation. Every heartbreak, every wrong turn — part of the formula. And somewhere, at the end of it, is the answer. Always her.

---

Eli Varnish spent most of his life drawing straight lines for crooked cities. As an architect, he designed libraries, train stations, and far too many gray, forgettable office buildings. He was always more interested in light than concrete — the way it moved through windows, shifted on floors, or disappeared behind closed doors. But deadlines piled up, and inspiration gave way to invoices. When he retired at 62, he didn’t throw a party. He just handed in his keys, took the long way home, and listened to the silence.

That’s when the music came back.
In his youth, Eli had played piano quietly — always in private, never in public. Now, with no blueprints to chase, he returned to the keys. Slowly. Gently. A few friends joined him — a bassist who used to drive a bus, a trombonist who sold insurance, and a drummer who once taught math. They started meeting weekly above an old bookstore. No gigs, no names. Just music.

Eventually, they found their way into a small jazz bar — dim, warm, and half-forgotten. That’s where Eli plays now. No spotlight, no talk. Just a glass of red wine, a crooked hat, and a piano that creaks in all the right places. The audience doesn’t clap much. They just nod, like they recognize something they forgot they knew.

Eli doesn’t miss architecture. “Buildings are meant to last,” he says, “but songs... songs are meant to leave.” And so he plays — not to impress, but to remember. To trace old lines in the air. To build something no one can own, but everyone can feel.

---

Say hello to Erica, a gem unearthed from the misty fjords of Bergen, Norway, serenading the world with her dance tunes. This synth-swirling belter could make a sardine shimmy with her infectious energy.

Growing up with classical piano lessons under Norway's perpetual drizzle, Erica found her musical identity sandwiched between her mom's Edith Piaf records and the emotional pull of her dad's synth fascination. While most 16-year-olds are busy amassing Instagram followers, Erica channeled her teenage angst into penning down her first song. It never saw the light of day, but listen closely at her concerts and you might hear her hum those nostalgic notes.

Erica shifted her base to the bustling streets of Berlin at 23, transitioning from a street musician to minimalist stages with a poise that could make Madonna go green. Her biggest hit has to be "DNC", a song that will make your feet tap and heart flutter before you even realize. Ever seen a packed room fall silent? Attend an Erica gig, as her whispers hush the room, except for that one guy always clapping off-beat.

Straddling both cheerful and profound, Erica's music echoes her journey. Dancing through life, one synth-filled melody at a time, she's proving that you can take a Norwegian out of the rain, but you can't take the rhythm out of the girl.

---

Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

---

Lily Green is a vibrant nu-disco artist with a deep love for cars and the open road.

Hailing from Los Angeles, Lily grew up with the sounds of synth beats and funky basslines, which fueled her passion for creating danceable, feel-good music.

Her fascination with cars started in childhood, spending weekends at car shows with her dad and dreaming of road trips across the country. This love for automobiles often finds its way into her music, with themes of freedom, speed, and adventure.

Known for her infectious energy and groovy tunes, Lily Green’s tracks are the perfect soundtrack for cruising down the highway with the windows down.

---

Born from the concrete veins of New York City’s underground, The 5th Exit is not just a band — it's a warning siren echoing through the alleys of Brooklyn. Blending the unapologetic grit of East Coast punk with the swagger of early-2000s hip-hop, their music punches through the noise like a subway train in a blackout.

The band was formed in late 2023 in a condemned warehouse turned DIY venue in Bushwick, after a street brawl-turned-jam-session between strangers. The result? Five misfits who had no plan — just noise, energy, and something to scream.

Members:
🎤 Jayno Blakk (Lead Vocals / Chaos Designer)
A former graffiti artist with a voice like broken glass in a hurricane. Born in Flatbush, Jayno spits lyrics like they’re Molotovs, laced with rage and raw truth. Known for performing barefoot and bleeding by the end of every show.

🎸 Noelle "Nox" Vega (Lead Guitar / FX Wizard)
Puerto Rican shredder with a physics degree and a pedalboard built from junkyard parts. She speaks three languages — four if you count distortion. Her solos? They don’t melt faces; they dissolve them.

🥁 Koda Rinz (Drums / Street Philosopher)
Half-poet, half-brawler. Raised by subway dancers and vinyl collectors, Koda’s beats sound like trash cans getting kicked down tenement stairwells — in perfect time. Always drumming, even in his sleep.

🎹 Echo Rowe (Synths / Scream Textures / Visuals)
The silent one. Echo doesn’t talk much, but his synth work sounds like a riot at 3AM. Also responsible for their chaotic visuals and the recurring raven motif in their shows. Rumor has it he lives in an abandoned radio tower in Queens.

🎸 Twitchy Lex (Bass / Vibe Damage Control)
Lex is the glue, or maybe the duct tape. Raised on R&B but corrupted by noise rock, he brings the groove — the dangerous kind that gets under your skin and sets off car alarms.

Their Breakout Track: "Get Out My Way"
A sonic punch to the throat, "Get Out My Way" is a war cry against complacency, gentrification, and anyone walking slow on a New York sidewalk. With a chorus that hits like a riot chant and verses that spit pure venom, it’s already being banned from small-town radio — which only makes it louder.

The 5th Exit isn’t asking for your attention. They’re taking it.
You can either move... or get run over.

---

Feeding off the neon pulse of Las Vegas, Adam Lamo has boogie-wired our hearts to irresistible dance beats like no one else. His music is more infectious than a hangover from an all-night disco party, and just as unforgettable.

Picture this: a youthful Adam, prowling the technicolor streets of Vegas, the city's rhythm flowing through his veins like liquid gold. With "Keep Me In That", Lamo masterfully bottled that dazzling, Frank Sinatra meets Calvin Harris vibe. The beats are sunnier than a Vegas summer heatwave and guaranteed to lift any moody blackjack player off their stool and onto the dancefloor.

Mr. Lamo whips up melodies that make choosing to sit out not an option, but a crime against fun itself. His music's joy factor hits harder than a final-round knockout; it's not just dance, it's happiness in audio form. Consider yourselves officially warned: surrender to the irresistible allure of Adam Lamo's beat, or risk a lifetime of being a total party pooper. Our lad from Vegas didn't just show up; he's here to make us dance 'til sunrise and beyond.

---

Imagine the grit and spirit of Seattle's best alternative music, colored with the blues of an often-drizzly city. Enter Dax Merrill, an artist who manages to distill the emotional richness of his surroundings into his melancholic masterpieces.

Dax hails from the birthplace of grunge, drawing upon the city's legacy with his murky, atmospheric guitar riffs and a voice that's gravelly yet beautiful. His music is an evocative blend of the gloomy skies and evergreen optimism of Seattle, weaved seamlessly within the fabric of his melancholic melodies.

From his mother's garage, he first strummed out the notes of a self-taught spells. His most notable song, "Memories That Stay", is a haunting testament to his past—a cathartic narration of his journey and a tribute to his resilient spirit.

Dax Merrill is as real as it gets, mates—unapologetically raw, generously insightful, undeniably talented. He's your heart's post-rain fog, the echoing muse on those sleepless nights. Listening to Dax is like tracing the outline of your own emotions, one chord at a time. So grab your headphones and let this Seattle-sound virtuoso take you on a sonorous adventure of an indie kind.

---

Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

---

Bruno Galvez was born to a working-class Spanish family in Valencia, where the scent of orange blossoms mixed with the sound of distant flamenco was part of everyday life. Raised in a modest apartment above a small tapas bar, Bruno’s earliest memories include the strum of his grandfather’s old guitar and the rhythm of heels tapping against the tiled floor. Music wasn't just tradition — it was identity.

To support himself through school, Bruno played guitar on the streets and metro stations of Madrid, his case open for coins, his eyes always scanning for inspiration. These years shaped both his sound and his soul. The rawness of performing for strangers taught him to listen deeply to people’s silence — and to fill it with something honest. His fingers spoke when words failed, and soon his name became familiar in the underground corners of the city.

He studied Anthropology at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, drawn to human stories, rituals, and rhythms — the same themes that echo in his music. By night he was a student of culture; by day, a transmitter of it, blending traditional flamenco with the urgency of the modern world. His academic lens gave new depth to his compositions, adding layers that resonated beyond melody.

Today, Bruno Galvez is no longer just a street performer. He’s a storyteller, a cultural bridge, and a reminder that music — especially flamenco — is not meant to be caged. It is meant to move, to cry, to celebrate, and most importantly, to survive.

---

Mark Martian is one of the most elusive figures in the music world, and his mysterious persona has left many fans wondering—could he really be from Mars?

Known for using the alias Martian Mark during his collaborations, this enigmatic producer has somehow managed to evade the spotlight completely. No interviews, no photos, no videos—Mark is practically a ghost. Some say it’s part of his brand, while others speculate wildly. Who knows?

Maybe while Elon Musk dreams of building colonies on Mars, Mark’s already here, quietly making beats after hitching a ride from the Red Planet’s first neighborhood.

Despite the secrecy surrounding him, one thing’s clear: Mark’s music speaks volumes. His deep house tracks pulse with interstellar vibes, his pop productions are out-of-this-world catchy, and his funk grooves are, well, otherworldly.

Whether he’s blending cosmic synths with soulful beats or dropping funk-infused rhythms, his style keeps listeners hooked and guessing. You can hear his work across platforms, but his music truly shines on Filodyo, where you might catch the next great Martian anthem—if he doesn’t beam it up first.

---

“If it doesn’t ask questions, it’s not music.”

LYA (pronounced “Lie-uh”) is a genre-defying artist from Berlin whose roots stretch from conservatory string quartets to the depths of fog-drenched warehouse raves. A classically trained violinist who once performed Vivaldi at age nine, she left formal music behind in her early 20s to pursue something more fractured, more real. What emerged was a sound as delicate as it is defiant—where harpsichords coexist with 2-step beats, and questions matter more than answers.

Her music exists in a liminal zone: somewhere between dance and disassociation, pop and poetry, cathedral and club. LYA often weaves spoken-word passages into her songs, transforming internal monologues into melodic mantras. Vocals—sometimes her own, sometimes spliced and AI-shifted—glide over textured layers of cello, muted synths, and ambient distortion. Think: if Imogen Heap grew up listening to Burial and wrote haikus in code.

LYA’s debut EP “Syntax of Sleep” was a quiet cult success among insomniac circles on Bandcamp, praised for its “introspective maximalism.” Her live sets, often accompanied by generative visuals and interactive lighting that reacts to audience movement, blur the line between concert and hallucination. She isn’t afraid of silence, nor of noise. Both, to her, are forms of rhythm.

LYA doesn’t write songs to explain. She writes them to wonder. “What’s It Made Of?”—her latest single via notfm—isn’t just a title. It’s a dare. A whisper in the hallway between thoughts. A reminder that meaning isn’t always the point.

---

Lina Mour is a French-born vocalist and songwriter blending high-octane Eurodance energy with the emotional weight of soulful pop. Growing up in the suburbs of Lyon, Lina was raised on a steady mix of gospel vocals, ‘90s dance anthems, and gritty French rap. This eclectic influence shaped her bold sonic identity — where throbbing 4/4 beats meet orchestral stabs, and where raw emotion finds its home on the dancefloor.

Her latest single, “Gravity Override,” is a high-energy anthem that collides hip house rap verses with a soaring, mantra-like chorus. It’s a throwback to the golden age of Eurodance, but with modern production and an unapologetic attitude. With pounding kicks, aggressive synths, and trance-tinged melodic layers, the track is built for sweaty club nights, neon-lit workouts, and every moment when reality feels too heavy to carry.

Lina describes the track as “not just about defying gravity — but defying expectation.” Behind the infectious hook lies a personal story of reclaiming freedom, breaking out of everyday repetition, and choosing joy over inertia. In her words: “It’s about walking down the street with a storm in your chest but a beat in your step.”

Beyond music, Lina is quickly becoming a visual icon in her own right. Her streetwear aesthetic, nostalgic references, and empowering live shows are drawing comparisons to the likes of Technotronic and Crystal Waters — yet Lina’s vision is firmly rooted in the present. She isn’t here to recreate the past. She’s here to override it.

---